Some Stretch of the Imagination
by xMoonStorm
Summary: This is a random story with WheelJack x Ratchet. It is Mech on mech and rated mature for later chapters! I have given you a warning. Also.. You should know I don't own Transformers, no matter how much I would enjoy having one.


So it has been a while since last i made a new story, I figured maybe i should give something new. I apologize for my other stories being on hold, I moved recently and have yet to have my information recovered from the old computer.  
~*~

WheelJack sat on his work stool glaring at the gadget that had failed to work for him. he didn't understand it, it should have worked! All the calculations were right.. and It didn't even blow up this time! What happened! The inventor slapped the thing away making it sputter, spark, and then explode just as he rushed over to pick it up. The sound was low frequency but it was heard. The mech coughed and swore heavily as he shook dust from his face. Looking around he scowled even more, another limb destroyed. Ratchet would have his aft mounted on the medbay wall before long.... But he went anyway, knowing that he would be on bed rest for days if his vital fluids weren't capped soon. Though he met Ratchet about halfway there, the medic huffing in his cooling vents as he had obviously traveled quickly. "You slag head! What the frag did you do this time!" the medic demanded already putting clamps into place muttering about having heard the noise in Prime's office, though WheelJack knew better than to ask what he had been doing in Prime's office of all places. He hobbled behind Ratchet to the medbay, his right leg malfunctioning slightly in addition to the arm of the same side being gone entirely; blown off deep at the shoulder. Settling on the berth he sighed and allowed Ratchet to work, his central computer memory bank re-scanning the numbers and blue prints over his inner optics.. It should have worked.. He began to recall the assembly of the small creation and almost jumped from the berth in exasperation. The wires from the power source and the light output had gotten switched! How could he have been such a glitch head! He growled at himself and fidgeted, making Ratchet slap him in the back of the head.  
"Stop squirming! You're making the clamps pull free," it wasn't in anger, just the usual gruff self of Ratchet. WheelJack muttered an apology and continued to think about his small gadget. It was supose to project light through crystals of different colors to reflect them over the surrounding walls. The small miracle was that the inventor had yet to install the crystals, so he didn't have to hunt more down... yet.  
Even with the clamps administered, WheelJack needed a day to recover. His leg gave him a mild limp too. It wasn't bad, but it was odd. Ratchet would have to tinker till it was fixed. It was another few days before the gadget was rebuilt. Making sure of his wires were placed properly he set the crystals in flipped it on and retreated behind a bunker like door where thick protective tinted glass would protect him if the light projector did in fact explode again. It wasn't very long before WheelJack realized the lights were far too hot for the crystals to take, they began to turn pink. Trying to turn the device off didn't work, frantically he tried and tried again. Giving up he just watched as they glowed red, ruptures beginning to break over their surfaces. They were at overload level, WheelJack's spark was pulsing fast as he watched; though it about stopped when the door flew wide and in waltzed ratchet. He looked around for WheelJack just as the crystals blazed and shattered. Shrapnel going everywhere, striking deep into the mech's body. The pieces seemed to punctuate him with dark blotches, energon and other fluids pouring from them. A few deeper ones oozing more slowly with thick oil. WheelJack threw himself from his bunker and slid on his knees to the side of the wounded medic. He pressed a hand to the worst of the wounds and comlinked everone, "Someone get here quick! Ratchet is severely injured and needs emergancy medical aid! I repeat Ratchet is severely injured!" He didn't wait for any replies he simply applied preasure to the worst wounds. It seemed like everyone tried to cram into WheelJack's workroom, all trying to get Ratchet out to the hospital.  
It was in a panic and rush of motions that Ratchet was hauled to the Emergency Repair Center. the mech was taken in without a pause, and rushed to intensive Care. No one was allowed to follow past those foreboding double doors; the pair that seemed to wave good bye as they slowly settled after being rammed through. No one seemed to breath for a few cycles, then slowly they all found places to settle. After a while many trailed away, back to their homes and workshops to await news. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker stayed, feeling rather close to the old mech, the one who could have very well been their father. At least that seems to be the way they took him. Preceptor stayed, mostly for WheelJack who hadn't budged from his seated position, fingers laced before his lips with elbows propped on his knees. the only thing to say he was alive aside from the glow of his optics was the slow tiny hum of his minimum cooling fan. It felt like a vorn before the head repair medic came out of those dreadful double doors, still cleaning fluids from his hands.  
"He is repaired to the best of our ability, but I'm afraid he will have to spend some time in the rehabilitation ward. Too many of his parts had to be replaced for him to be up and about yet. they need to settle in his system for a stellar cycle or so. But he will be fine," the medic had that same blunt-ness about him as ratchet, though he was a bit more gentle when he spoke. a rather handsome mech, broad shouldered and sturdy without being bulky. later they would find out his name is WeldingBlaze, at the moment WheelJack didn't much care, though Preceptor seemed to have forgotten just about everything but that deeply colored mech. It was strange, finding himself flustered in front of a new mech, though he kept his composer. "Can we see him?" WheelJack demanded, grabbing the mech's forearm, not caring about the oils and other fluids that transferred to his fingers.  
"He won't be awake yet..." WeldingBlaze started.  
"What room?" growled WheelJack softly. WeldingBlaze obliged and added not to dawdle too long, he needed rest. It was a quick trip to see ratchet, he was being monitored in the ICU for overnight at least, if he stayed stable then he would be transferred to his new temporary home the next day. Ratchet did look rather like a car pulled together from a scrap heap. Welding on his wounds showed bright silver over his white, a few new wires stood out at his neck and other joints. WheelJack collapsed into the only chair, almost gasping in his cooling systems as he fought hysterics. It was his fault, he hadn't told anyone, he hadn't locked the door.... Down went his masked face into his hands where he grieved over his stupidity. True they had said Ratchet would be fine, but that didn't change the fact it was his fault.  
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Ratchet.." he mumbled. Ratchet twitched his digits, but that was about it. Preceptor hovered outside the unit, his optics flickering to the medical bot that stood close by. WeldingBlaze observed with his sharp eyes, noting the reaction of the young inventor and digits on the monitors. The thin lines wove a plethora of information that Preceptor didn't speak the tongue of. it was amazing that so much could be seen in a line, but the microscope knew that. He studies things much smaller than that line that could tell him so much. still, the mech wondered about the circuits that functioned behind those optics.  
WeldingBlaze couldn't help but hover near the window of his newest patient, the red mech that seemed to be the white, green, red and gray one's closest friend was intriguing. Young like the friend who slumped on the chair beside the injured mech, rather thinner than himself and a bit.. timid maybe? he wasn't sure., but he did know he wanted to find out. For now though he would simply keep watch as was his job.

Ratchet woke up later that evening, he kept improving to the point he would growl at WheelJack every time the mech tried to apologize.. AGAIN!.. for the accident. He was moved to the Rehab unit on the upper floor. It was a mixture of mostly older bots who seemed to need assistance keeping their circuits together. one femme, ratchet found out, wailed as she spoke; it was an eerie sound. her circuits were a bit scrambled as she spoke to people about things she didn't even remember the next couple of seconds. Another femme cried in her sleep, "Don't leave me here! Come back! Don't leave me!" It made ratchets exterior flesh like material crawl. What had she been through to make her cry like that? he barely dared to wonder.

How was he suppose to stay in this place? Surely he would go mad? Ratchet scowled at the nurse who came to give him his energon, she was a rather luscious bot with delicate touches of chrome and aluminum to decorate her wings and body.

"Come now you must have some energon, otherwise you'll never get better," she purred to him, leaning over the berth for a closer proximity to the handsome mech.

"I'll eat when the frag I'm ready to eat! Now get the slag out!" Ratchet snarled at her, making her back off; though she hadn't lost spark.. yet.

"Cool your electrics, handsome. You're getting my engines revved..." she leaned over him, just as WheelJack stepped into the room.....

Until next chapter my darlings! Mua-hahaha!


End file.
